Mercy Me
by kaljara
Summary: Supernatural mercenaries... Gia Greenberg-THE Greenberg-thought she could escape the supernatural world, but after a shocking revelation about her heritage, she is irreversibly involved. With hits being placed on members of the McCall pack and an ancient evil resurfacing, Gia must find her place before her whole world is mercilessly torn apart. S3B; sequel to Ignite and Extinguish
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

She was in a deep sleep when he called her.

The phone buzzed annoyingly by her ear, and the girl picked up the device and scowled at the brightly glowing screen. It was her brother's name that was on the caller ID, and she wanted to groan. It was nearly four o'clock in the morning-if her idiot of a brother was out _this_ early in the morning hours, she wasn't going to cover for him, no matter how wasted he was. Dante was known for partying, though his image at home was the perfect son, president of Mu Alpha Theta, the National Honor Society, and number two ranked in his class. Dante was complicated, to say the least. He was a free sprit locked in a confining body, so between his bouts of community service and charity work, Dante liked to do keg stands and play beer pong.

She answered the phone with an exasperated sigh, hoping that her brother wasn't going to ask her to help him up the stairs. But her exasperation soon turned into panic when she heard the ragged breathing on the other end of the line. "Gia?" Dante's voice rasped.

Gia sat bolt-upright in her bed, heart starting to pound hard. Dante sounded so scared-she hadn't heard him sound that way since they were kids. He was in trouble. "What's wrong?" she whispered, her voice hoarse from sleep.

There was no response for a second, just the sound of Dante's heavy, muffled breathing. "Dante!" she exclaimed sharply, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. "What's wrong?"

"Gigi...Gia. I-I'm really sorry. Was wrong..." he choked. "I was wrong. I was wrong. And now I have t-to...to pay for it."

"What are you talking about?" Gia's voice climbed an octave, and she stumbled to her feet. She slipped on a pair of ratty tennis shoes in the next second. Her long, dark hair was clinging to her neck with cold sweat, and her heart was pounding hard. What was going on? The way Dante was talking... "Where-where are you? I can help you get home, Dante. I can help you-"

"Too late, little sister." Dante's words were quiet now, almost eerily calm. A lot different than he had sounded a minute before. Gia clutched the phone tightly in her hand. "No one can help me now." Gia inhaled deeply, and then, suddenly, she heard the sound of sirens blaring from the other end of the line. She pulled the phone away from her ear in surprise, but the sound of the sirens didn't fade. Gia whirled around and stared out her open window. The white gossamer curtains (ugly things that her mother had insisted on buying for her) fluttered in the breeze. She yanked them out of the way and leaned outside a bit. Those were police sirens. She could hear the cruisers coming down the street opposite to her own, right next to the...

Gia's eyes widened, and she jerked around and ran for her door, flinging it open with abandon. She was down the stairs and out the front door before she could even tell if her parents were awake. Gia didn't care if she got in trouble. She was always perfect. The perfect student, the perfect sister, the perfect daughter. If Dante was in danger, it was her job to find him, to protect him. Because she knew that no one else would.

Her arms tight at her sides, legs pumping hard as she gathered speed, Gia ran down the street as fast as she possibly could, breath coming out in visible puffs in the cold November air. In all her fourteen years, Gia had never ran so hard, so fast. She was at the end of the street in a matter of moments, shivering in her gym shorts, baggie T-shirt and worn tennis shoes. Two police cruisers had just pulled up to the run-down park across the street, sirens blaring. The glow of the blue and red lights illuminated Gia's face as she ran closer, fear coursing through her like the blood that ran through her veins.

The cold bit against her skin, smarting, and she fought back a violent shiver as she caught sight of a figure knelt on the frost-covered ground by the dilapidated merry-go-round. Gia jerked to a complete stop. She knew the boy-broad-shouldered, lean-muscled, curling black hair and olive-toned skin...Dante. Gia took another step forward, trembling violently in the cold. But as she drew closer to her brother, Gia's breath left her lungs in one gasp. Dante was crouched over someone, and the figure...the figure wasn't moving. Gia stared at the girl lying motionless on the grass, her legs twisted at an odd, unnatural angle. She was exotically beautiful-with mocha skin and full lips, a wild mane of dark caramel ringlets, and amber eyes that gazed unblinkingly up at the sky.

The girl was dressed in a strapless leather dress that hugged her curves with its cream-colored material. A pair of stiletto boots were on her feet, one of them halfway off. Gia nearly retched when she caught sight of the bullet hole in the girl's chest and the blood spilling from the wound. Dante tilted his head toward the cop cars, his face emotionless in the dim light. He shifted a few inches, and then Gia caught sight of it-a shiny black revolver in his white-knuckled hand. Her father had made her memorize weapons when she was young. 'So you know what you're up against,' he had gruffly told her. 'Know thy enemy, Gianna.' But that gun in her brother's hand-she couldn't connect it with him. She couldn't connect her brother with the dead girl beside him. Dante wasn't a...killer. Dante was a jock. Dante was on the honor roll at school. Dante was loved by everyone. Dante wasn't violent-he only liked to argue, really. He couldn't have done this, especially on the playground, of all the places.

The place where they used to have competitions to see how far someone could jump off the swings, and their older sister Gemma would sniff at their immaturity and flounce all the way home to tell their parents. Not in this place of good memories and feelings. Because even though Dante's finger was still on the trigger, Gia couldn't believe that her brother was a monster. That he was a cold-blooded killer who murdered innocent girls in the park at four in the morning.

Dante turned and looked at her. His jaw was set, and the stoic look on his face did not fade. But his eyes-Gia saw everything in his deep brown eyes. All the anguish and pain and regret and anger, bubbling to the surface. Dante was unrecognizable in that moment, and it scared her.

She was screaming his name, running toward him, but Dante was being thrown to the ground by officers and placed in handcuffs. Someone caught her by the waist and held onto her as she thrashed, yelling hoarsely for her big brother. She told them that this was all a mistake, that Dante hadn't done this. He couldn't have done this. The officers tried to console her as she screamed and cried, as they jerked Dante to his feet roughly and then began to examine the body of the dead girl. The gun was carefully picked up with latex gloves to preserve the evidence, and still, Gia screamed. Her dark hair, falling at her shoulder blades, was in a wild disarray around her face, and she imagined that her eyes were wild, too.

She was wild. She had been so good for so long. The perfect child, just like her older sister. Dante had been the rebel in the times that it counted. She was just the quiet one who never spoke her mind, the robot girl who obeyed her parents' orders with a tiny plastic smile and desolate eyes. But now that exterior shattered. She gave a gutteral shriek and lunged forward, almost breaking free of the deputy's arms, but not quite. He caught her wrist last second. Gia panted heavily and met Dante's eyes just before the police officers shoved him into the back seat of one of the cruisers. He mouthed something, just one word, but Gia could read his lips clearly. Lip reading had been a game between the two of them when they were small. Just one word, and then Dante was out of her line of vision completely.

But that one word undid it all.

_Me._

He had mouthed _me_ to Gia, a confession spanning across the cold space in between them. Gia went numb after that, falling slack in the officer's arms. Her head lolled back, and she stared up at the starry sky and the full moon above her. Dante had just admitted to it. Her brother, her hero, the one that made her believe that she didn't need to be perfect to mean something-he was gone. A killer with the blood of an innocent girl on his hands had taken his place. She couldn't think about why he would do such a thing. All she could focus on was the fury growing inside of her, burning hot in her chest.

It swelled as she was grilled by the police who were demanding to know why she had been at the scene of the crime. It grew when her parents scolded her for leaving the house alone, for disobeying their strict rules. They seemed more disgusted than upset by Dante's actions. Gia should have known that they wouldn't mourn the loss of him. The Greenberg children were investments that had to go right, and if they didn't-well, Dante was a prime example of that. Her parents had no sympathy; Dante had just turned eighteen two weeks before, and he would tried as an adult. Dante was a failure, a mistake. At least, that's what Gia's parents believed.

Gia's fury only grew at the mention of her brother. He was supposed to protect her. She and Gemma had never been close-there was too much of a difference in age and personality for that. Dante had been her savior, her solid ground. Now it felt like the whole earth was quaking under her feet. So the fire in her chest grew and grew, consuming her, until the day after The Incident, when Gia saw herself in her bathroom mirror. She was dressed for school in a perfectly ironed pair of jeans and a crisp blouse with her long dark hair spilling in a perfect sheet down her back. Just a glance in the mirror and everything came undone.

She was tired of _perfection_ because nothing in her life was _perfect._ Gia was shaking, clutching her blouse, and then she let out a scream and began to bang her fists against the glass of her mirror, cracking the glass. She pounded until her knuckles were raw and bleeding. With each hit, she reclaimed a little bit of herself and got rid of all the things she didn't want: Her parents telling her average wasn't good enough, that she needed to be excellence; Gemma's face when Gia had admitted that she didn't understand her parents, that she felt like they were undoing her; Dante's mouthed words the night before...all the fakeness and deceit and insecurity-she pounded it away. There was no one there to hear her cry and scream; her parents were at work and she was alone, as she normally was. But she had never felt so alone in all of her life as she did just then.

The fire in her was still smoldering, and she needed one final release. Gia pulled her bloody hands back from the mirror and ripped open the medicine cabinet, throwing brushes and hair ties out of the way in her desperate search. Gia finally grasped the scissors tightly in her hand, still trembling violently, tears pouring down her cheeks. She lifted a piece of her long hair in front of her and cut it short, just under her ears. And then her hand moved in a frenzy, cutting jagged chunks from her hair, making it short and layered and edgy and _dangerous looking_.

Because Gia Greenberg was done being the perfect daughter, smiling brightly and emptily for all to see.

Dante's betrayal had shattered her illusion of perfection.

She gathered all of the hair she had cut off and threw it in the toilet, watching it swirl and then disappear.

Her steel gray eyes locked on the broken, warped mirror, and the reflection that stared back was jagged and frightening and bloody. The new Gia was someone unrecognizable. Just the way she wanted it.

And she was never going back to the way she had been before.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1: Sticks and Stones, Broken Bones and Everything in Between

_And I never said I was right_

_Well, I'm probably the one in the wrong_

_The voices are telling me I can't always be this strong_

_And nothing feels right, not right now_

_Like I've lost my mind somehow_

_I'm scaring myself_

_I don't know the girl in the mirror now_

_I'm burning up, I'm burning up._

_-Breaking and Entering, by Tonight Alive_

People always use the phrase 'The grass is greener on the other side'. I can't count the number of times I've seen it in books, heard it in movies, seen others basically try to live by those words. But you know what?

That sentence is honestly the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.

The people who believe that the grass is greener haven't been to the other side. They haven't had their eyes opened to all of the horrors of the world. They don't know about the existence of the supernatural, haven't been kidnapped and tortured by a creature that was supposed to be just a myth. They haven't seen the world as it really is.

And they're lucky.

About a year ago, I started to notice that things in Beacon Hills were far from normal. Scott McCall was what had made me suspicious at first. The boy was a year younger than me, highly unathletic...until he wasn't. I started watching Scott closely, listening in to his and his friends' conversations when I could. I did my own research. It wasn't long before I pieced things together-Scott McCall was a werewolf, and I had just managed to flip my world upside down completely.

I kept what I knew to myself. There was no way in hell I was going to confront him about it. But as it turned out, I didn't need to. Scott did a pretty bang-up job of nearly revealing what he was several times, and if you payed close attention, you could catch the faintest glimpse of golden eyes or claws. It was all very unsettling, but also intriguing.

I tried to stay out of it, tried to stay away. Whatever Scott and his friends were involved in, I knew it was something that put their lives in danger on a daily basis. I already had enough on my shoulders without adding any crazy supernatural shit to my agenda. Plus, even if I had told Scott what I knew, it wasn't like I was going to be invited into his little make-shift pack. I wasn't likeable. I had a reputation, thanks to my older brother. I came from a prestigous family who had bred a child prodigy, a murderer, and me-the only female lacrosse player Beacon Hills history has ever seen, the pariah of Beacon Hills High School.

So no, I would have no place in Scott's group, in the know or not.

I had convinced myself that I could keep everything a secret. But halfway through last school year, things started to change drastically. Besides all the crazy-ass murders that were going on, the students at BHHS were changing. The first was a shy, socially awkward kid named Isaac Lahey. One day he was the boy that refused to run the mile in gym class, and in the next, he was a wanted fugitive who wore leather jackets and gave devilish smirks.

Then it was my best friend, Erica Reyes, the shaky epileptic sophomore girl that was the only one who seemed to be able to tolerate my presence. Erica was constantly nervous at school, but away from our peers, she was insanely sweet and had a smile that could light up a room. She was the person closest to my heart, and I loved her like a sister. But then one day after a particularly bad seizure and hospital run, Erica came back to the school a completely different person-blood-red lipstick, smoky eyes, and clothing that spilled as much confidence as she was emitting. After that, Erica treated me like I was nothing. Like I was beneath her notice, just like how everyone else treated me. I was hurt and angry, and I wanted to know what was happening.

It wasn't long before it became clear-Derek Hale, the lone surviving Hale werewolf, had been turning teenagers. And he wasn't done yet. Not only had he changed Isaac into a jerk, but he had turned my best friend, my only friend, against me. And he planned to keep turning kids. To keep ruining their lives, whether they knew it or not. Boyd was next-the hulking loner whose little sister had been kidnapped during his watch.

I decided that I hated Derek Hale. I hated what he was doing just to have a pack, just because McCall didn't want to call him alpha.

When Boyd and Erica disappeared, I was terrified. No one knew where they were, but I suspected the worst supernatural-wise. I was right to because...both Erica and Boyd were dead now. They were gone, and the pain in my chest when I had found that out was excruciating.

I had tried to find solace in another girl, someone that reminded me a lot of Erica before she became a werewolf. A girl named Seraphina Sinclair. Sera hid behind her dark waves and sat with perpetually hunched shoulders as if she was trying to shrink into herself. She was pale and lithe, with dancer-like limbs and the graceful walk of a model, despite how she tried not to draw attention to herself. She was a shadow, unlike me. People knew I existed-they just purposely avoided me. But Sera...she was a ghost. Not many people even knew her name, and she liked it that way.

That is, until she got involved with the McCall pack. I wanted to warn her of the dangers she faced, warn her that she was putting herself in harm's way. But the Sinclair girl's unique chartruese eyes held masked pain, and she always looked on the brink of a breakdown, despite the hard looks she sometimes plastered on her face. I thought her new friends could protect her from everything that she would be exposed to.

But I had no one to protect me. I was snatched right off the street by a boy with eyes like the Caribbean and a non-existent soul. I found out not long afterward that Seraphina was a werewolf herself, and a special one at that-she was the scepter, a thing of legend. She was ultimately the reason that the sacrifices were being committed in the first place, and she was trying to stop Liam Devereaux, the psycho murderer, from killing anyone else. But under his control, Seraphina had almost done the unthinkable-she had almost changed me into a werewolf by just touch. Fortunately, she stopped herself before the transformation was complete.

Ever since the incident, though, I hadn't been the same. I was jumpy, wary of everything around me. Nightmares of beautiful devils that sliced up my skin haunted me every night. Sometimes Seraphina was there, watching the scene with a robotic look on her face and no light in her eyes. Needless to say, my kidnapping and almost-turning had affected me in the worst ways possible. Sometimes I didn't even know if I was alive. I felt dead inside. Especially when my parents had questioned me more thoroughly about my kidnapping than the police did. They were suspicious of the whole situation, and more concerned about their reputation then they were about me.

That was to be expected, though. My parents only gave a damn about their kids when we were doing something that made them look good. They were shrewd, calculating, and generally cold people dedicated to nothing but their work. They made me feel like I was a walking dead girl more than all the whispers in the hallway did, more than all the looks of pity or disgust I received did. My parents were perfect at everything they attempted-making me feel like shit about myself was no exception.

Three weeks. Three weeks since I was almost reborn as something else. Three weeks since I was almost killed. Three weeks since I had been dragged from the hell I had been captive to. Three weeks that hadn't improved anything for me. The more time that went by, it seemed like the worse I got. I was fading.

Those people that say that the grass is always greener on the side? They've never seen the other side. They've never endured the agony of the other world, witnessed the horrors that the other side offered. The grass there isn't greener. It;s stained blood-red, seeping chaos and pain. And once you see the other side...you can never escape it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

There was no way in the nine circles of hell that I was going to see a psychiatrist, a psychologist, or whatever else my parents were trying to force me into. They insisted that I see a professional, mostly because after experiencing what I had, it would be 'highly improper to re-enter society without getting my pysche checked', according to my mother. I had never heard such a load of bullshit in my life; my parents just didn't want me to become any more unpredictable than I already was. So ignoring all of my protests and muttered curses, my mother and father had signed me up to see the school counselor, Ms. Morrell, at lunch every day for the past three weeks.

I had skipped the first few days, but then my dad had found out and threatened to not let me go to Ida's-a local tea shop that had open mike on Wednesdays-and I had grudgingly agreed to his demands. Ida's was more of my home than my actual house was; I never felt uncomfortable behind a microphone. Singing was one of the only times that I felt like I wasn't being smothered to death, other than when I drew, and I couldn't bear to lose my spot at Ida's. Usually it was only Ida and her little daughter Orie that were in the shop, but it didn't matter. Singing was my release, no matter if someone was listening to me or not. I didn't want a crowd there, anyway. And besides, who would have ever thought that the lacrosse-playing Greenberg girl could carry a tune and draw well?

I weaved through the hallway, scowling only briefly when some asshole wrecked into my shoulder. The cuts up and down my arms still burned, and like the ones on my legs, several of them had been stitched up. They were healing slowly but surely, but if people kept plowing me over, they were likely to scar even worse than they were already going to in the first place. I blew out a sigh from between pursed lips and threw my books down on the floor by my locker, muttering obscenities as I had to kneel down and put in my combination. It was just my luck that I, a girl who was nearly 5'10, would get a bottom locker and Ricki Sanchez, who was all of 4'11, would get the locker above me. I shoved my Calc book into my locker and exchanging it for my English textbook.

I gripped the book in one hand and climbed to my feet, kicking my locker door shut with a Doc Marten-clad foot and turning on heel only to wreck into someone's chest.

Blinking in surpise, I quickly took a step back and met Danny Mahealani's? eyes. The boy was broad shouldered with dark, dark eyes, perfectly combed black hair, and a genuine smile that showed killer dimples. He was also a star athlete, and one of the nicest guys Beacon Hills had to offer. About a year before, I had convinced myself that I was in love with Danny. There was something about him that drew people in, and I was no different. The way he laughed, the slight curling of his lips, the jokes that always came at the most opportune moments-Danny was amazing, and also my best (and only) guy friend. But Danny wasn't into girls, and I respected that. I was wistful for a while, wanting nothing more than to catch the younger boy's attention and knowing that it would never happen. But as soon as I put my heart in place, I knew that what I felt for Danny was just infatuation. I didn't love him as anything more than a friend. When I realized that, it made it a whole lot easier to interact with the guy.

"Personal space issues much?" I teased, cocking a hip as I raised my eyebrows.

Danny's mouth quirked off to the side in a grin. "You wrecked into me, Gia." He crossed his arms over his chest in mock-indignation. "I have better manners."

I chuckled and scuffed my boots absently against the tile floor, still smiling at Danny. But when his teasing expression wavered and then faded completely, so did mine. Uh no. I knew that look.

"Are you going to Morrell's office at lunch?" he asked politely, and his voice was a little strained. Several people shot us curious looks when they passed by, but I tried to ignore them. I didn't give a fuck about my social status, but I hated to tarnish Danny's social status by just association...Danny had things to lose. But me? Greenberg just had her smarts. The end.

"Yup," I replied, trying to keep my voice light. The truth was, I didn't want to go anywhere near Morrell's office. I didn't want to have to sit in a room that was meticulously organized and listen to Morrell go on and on in her soothing, yet somehow conscending, voice that everything could get better if I just told her what had happened to me. The memories were awful enough to carry around myself, and just the thought sharing them with someone else made me want to be sick. Morrell was in the know about the supernatural, being something known as a druid, but I doubted she would know how to approach the situation. I hadn't told anyone all of what had happened to me when I was locked in that cold, dark basement. I didn't know if I ever could, honestly. "Can't wait to go in for my daily harrassment," I said bitterly, picking at the loose threads on my low-rise skinny jeans. My studded silver V-neck T-shirt was barely long enough to cover my mid-drift.

Danny gave me a sympathetic look, and it wasn't one of those empty ones that meant nothing-it was laced with worry, real worry. Dammit. No matter what anyone said, there was nothing worse in the world than upsetting Danny. "Is it...getting any better?" he asked quietly, lowering his voice several octaves. "The dreams and things you were seeing?"

I swallowed hard, dropping my eyes to my boots. My choppily-layered black hair hung in front of my face briefly. I had stripped it of its purple streaks a few days before, wanting to get rid of the kidnapped girl's image completely. I couldn't escape Danny's question, though. Were things getting better? In all honesty, I felt like they were getting worse. Like the whole entire world was going to collapse around me. "I think so," I lied, not looking up from my shoes.

Danny placed a hand in the crook of my elbow, and I couldn't help but to meet his eyes. "You know when you're done with Morrell, you can come sit with all of us at lunch, right?" Danny shifted his gym bag to his other shoulder. "I don't think anyone would really mind."

I tried not to snort, but I couldn't stop my nose from wrinkling. Chelsea Spaulding, Ashley Barlett, Ellie Liao, Jill Holcomb ...they weren't exactly my biggest fans. Not to mention that Lydia Martin, queen bee and bitch extraordinaire, sat there usually, and I wasn't about to be in a five mile radius of her after my kidnapping. She made me furious on a normal day; I didn't think a broken-version of myself would be able to stop from snapping. Besides Lydia, there was Allison Argent, who was buddy-buddy with the Martin girl and also tied to the McCall pack, and Sera, who I could barely make eye-contact with anymore, so I didn't want any of that. I just wanted to be left alone, honestly. It was actually kind of ironic; the girl who had never wanted to be alone was trying to push everyone away. While Danny's offer was sweet, I couldn't just magically plant myself into his group of friends. It just wasn't possible.

But I did appreciate his offer.

"Thanks," I replied, a genuine smile twisting my lips upward briefly. "If I ever get out of hell, I'll make sure to come and find you."

Danny hiked his bag up on his shoulder again, grinning brightly. "I'm counting on it." He gave me one last nod of his head before he turned around and melting back into the crowd. I took a deep breath and pushed my way into the group as well, not ready for English. It wasn't that I necessarily hated English, but I was better at social studies. And math. And science. Basically everything besides English. Equations I could manage. Memorizing dates was no issue. But if you handed me a poem and expected me to annotate it...well, I had never been good with words.

I lost count of the times people ran into my injured arms, most of them unintentional, and all I could do was grit my teeth and endure the pain that soon faded into a constant, dull ache. I pulled my sleeves down over my hands and pushed forward, almost gasping in relief when I finally burst into Mrs. Wilmoth's classroom. Several people snickered at the distraught expression on my face, so I quickly replaced it with a blank look of indifference as I took my seat and started getting my supplies ready for class. Mrs. Wilmoth wasn't in the class yet, and I was beginning to dread someone coming up to me and making a snide remark. It was apart of my everyday life now that I was back in school. The rumors about what had happened to me were incredibly dickish: I had joined some kind of gang and had failed the initiation, so they had beat the shit out of me and dumped me in a ditch; I had tried to run away from home and gotten robbed and raped; I had tried to kill myself by bloodletting...the list was endless.

By the time I had pulled out my copy of Beowulf out of my bag, one of the usual idiots had stalked over to my desk and planted his hands on either side of it. I looked up slowly at Tyler Lidel, one of the hulking lacrosse players that had an ego big enough to fill up a room. He and his douche friends had made my life a living hell ever since I had joined the team, and half the time I wanted to do nothing more than kick his gloating face in with my cleats. Tyler had a way of looking at people like he was always aroused, even when he was insulting them. It was like being a dickbag to people guaranteed him a boner or something. "How are the stitches doing, Greenberg?" His husky voice grated on my already frayed nerves. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. I tapped my pencil on my desk slowly, raising my eyebrows until they were basically in my hairline. Tyler's blonde hair reminded me of another taunting boy... "I would say it's a shame that you might actually change in the girl's locker room at practice from now on but..." Tyler grinned. "There's not much miss."

There was a few muffled giggles and whispers, but I just gave a tight smile. "Oh, come on, Ty. We all know you get off at even the smallest amount of exposed skin." My smile became vicious, and I narrowed my eyes. "Your kid stepsister will testify to that."

Tyler blanched, face draining of all color. The benefit of being the pariah of the school? I drifted around and heard many, many interesting things from the other kids that weren't worth the popular group's mention. One of those was Alexa Lidel, Tyler's freshman stepsister. And boy, did she have some _very _interesting things about Tyler...

Lidel continued to gawk at me, but the color was starting to return to his face. Huh. He actually looked like he was angry, not like he wanted to bang me. Nice change. People were staring at Tyler now, because they had heard the rumors, oh sure, but the Greenberg freak with the insider's view had just confirmed them. Several girls tittered in disgust, and even a few of the boys were shaking their heads. Mrs. Wilmoth finally waddled her way into the room, and still, Tyler stared at me speechlessly, growing more red by the second. I leaned forward a bit, looking up at him with a tiny smile twisting my lips. "I believe that was your cue to get the fuck out of my face and sit your perv-ass back in your seat, Lidel," I whispered, steepling my hands under my chin.

Tyler let go of my desk robotically and went back to his seat, glaring at nothing as Mrs. Wilmoth began to squeakily instruct us to do silent sustained reading for twenty minutes. I flipped open Beowulf and tried to hide my smug smirk. I took opportunities when they were presented to me.

But after a few seconds of sitting in silence, my thoughts strayed away from horny classmates and assigned reading. I was actually thinking of Isaac Lahey cornering me the other day in the hallway. He had stopped me at my locker the day before yesterday, all six feet and some inches of him standing tautly as he informed me that Scott wanted to talk about everything that had happened. Of course, I had told Isaac that if Scott really wanted to talk to me, he would do it himself. And I also told him that I didn't really want anything to do with his wacked-out pack, thank you very much. Isaac had frowned at that, and a crease had appeared between his eyebrows as he had narrowed his eyes at me. Honestly, it didn't take much for me to make Isaac frown-he did it enough when we were in lacrosse practice that it was the expression I had gotten used to seeing on his face.

Isaac said Scott wanted to talk to me, but I really didn't feel like talking to anyone. I hadn't been sleeping-between the awful nightmares of blood and pain and cruel laughter, I'd been having weird dreams and hallucinations. That seemed like a typical PTSD symptom, but usually...usually people have those dreams and hallucinations about themselves. In my dreams, Stilinski and Lydia Martin had been there, and though they were interacting with each other, they couldn't see me. Stiles had wanted to close some kind of door, but Lydia had called for him to come back to bed and...it had been beyond trippy, even for me. That had been the latest one, besides hallucinating that Scott was wolfing out when before he had came into school this morning and that Allison was being chased by some freaky-ass lady with dirty blonde curls and a wild look in her eyes. None of it made any sense, but then, neither did the existence of the supernatural.

I could deal with my own problems, but my more recent dreams and hallucinations had nothing to do with me. They were centered around the McCall pack, and in my opinion, that was just another reason for me to stay far, far away from them. I didn't want to be involved. I hadn't really been involved the last time and I had almost been ritually sacrificed. And I wasn't about to aim for a repeat.

I wanted to blame Sera for everything that was happening, but I honestly couldn't. She had been through so much already, had basically gave her life for Stiles, only to have her wolfhood ripped away from her instead...I'd had it rough, too rough, but so had she. I was still angry, but that anger wasn't mainly directed at her anymore. It was directed at the whole supernatural world for screwing up everyone's lives in Beacon Hills.

I snapped out of my thoughts when Mrs. Wilmoth instructed us to write a summary on the chapter we had just read. The chapter that I hadn't read because I was zoning out. Cursing under my breath, I tried to get through the painful reading. The bell rang before I was finished with my summary, but I honestly didn't care. It was long enough, and detailed enough, and I knew Mrs. Wilmoth would give me full credit. That was all I was concerned about. I quickly gathered up my books and made my way to the door, dreading the thought of spending my lunch with Morrell.

Sera had a special hate for the woman, and if _Sera_ managed to hate you, that was a bad sign. I nearly ran head-first into one of the former-alpha twins and flinched away from the boy. I figured it was Aiden by the way he was barreling down the hallway, not even caring as he wrecked into people. I swallowed hard and kept moving, not wanting to be in a ten foot radius of a boy who had been related to Liam Devereaux.

I threw my books down on the ground, narrowly avoiding Ricki's locker door as she swung it open, too busy shattering with Kinsey Kelley to notice that she had almost decapitated me. Grumbling, I wondered if everyone was specifically trying to kill me today. I shoved my books into my locker, fished out my bagged lunch, and then climbed to my feet and closed my locker. The hallway was already clearing out, and I couldn't help but be grateful. The last thing I needed today was anymore confrontation. But people were in such a hurry to get to lunch that no one even gave me a second glance. I was almost to Morrell's room when I heard familiar voices around the corner. I stopped in my tracks and pressed my back against the lockers and peeked around the corner.

Scott, Stiles, and Allison were standing by the doors of the school, looking uncomfortable and annoyed as Lydia, who was standing in front of them, gloated about no longer being the crazy one. I leaned forward a bit, curious. Lydia had always been psycho to some extent; I knew that. But what was she talking about with the others? I watched as Stiles frowned, looking off to the side. His wide brown eyes caught sight of me, but he didn't say anything. I nearly cursed. I definitely wasn't stealthy, or as stealthy as I would have liked. I was just surprised Scott hadn't noticed I was there, being an alpha and all...I shook my head vigorously at Stiles, and he gave me a small nod in return. I didn't know why he had agreed to not tell the others that I had been eavesdropping, but I decided that I wasn't going to take his generousity for granted. I backed down the hallway and walked as quickly as possible to Morrell's room.

Maybe Stiles felt like I deserved to be left alone? He was a human, too, and maybe he felt like his girlfriend had already dealt with enough shit and I should keep a safe distance? Who knew, honestly. I was just thankful that I didn't have to talk to Lydia Martin.

Morrell was waiting for me when I finally stepped into her office. She had her hands folded on her desk, and she was dressed in a forest green silk blouse and a pair of black dress pants, looking as statuesque as ususal. I took the seat opposite of her desk, aware that her dark eyes were on me as I shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "How are you today, Gia?" she asked me pleasantly, her voice calm and slow. I slowly raised my eyes to meet her dark ones.

"Peachy," I deadpanned, opening up my lunch bag without another word. I pulled out my peanut butter and banana sandwich and a water, then crumpled up the paper bag and threw it in the trash can on the opposite side of the room. Morrell just blinked at me. She was used to my indifferent behavior during our sessions, but I had never eaten in front of her. She always asked how well I was eating, if I was getting enough food, and I intended to show her that I was perfectly capable of feeding myself. After my parents had informed her that I had lost nearly ten pounds since my kidnapping, Morrell had been constantly asking about my eating habits. I took a huge bite out of my sandwich and cocked an eyebrow at the counselor. It was always nice to throw off someone who was generally unruffled when it came to the supernatural.

"Have you talked to Seraphina or any of her friends?" Morrell asked smoothly a second later, and I nearly choked. Morrell's steady gaze told me that she wasn't messing around, and in this session, she wanted answers.

I swallowed with difficulty and shrugged. "Sure. I see them almost every day." I tried to keep my voice light.

Morrell leaned forward, her dark, perfectly straightened hair falling over her shoulder. I'd had hair like hers once, but I had quickly solved that problem. "You're not avoiding them? Seeing them in the hallway and turning to go in the opposite direction?" Her words hit a little too close to home.

I scowled at the woman and set my sandwich down on my lap, crossing my arms over my chest. "Do you normally stalk your clients, or am I the only one that gets special treatment?" I asked coldly.

Morrell gave a smile that made me want to get up and leave the room immediately. It was a smile that suggested that she knew things that I didn't, things that I could never know. And it infuriated me. "I was merely looking for you, Gia, since you were late to our meeting." She straightened some papers on her desk. "Now, is there anything in particular you want to talk about today? Your friends? The kidnapping?"

I wanted to laugh in her face and tell her that the only real friend that I'd ever had was dead, and that there was no way in hell that I was going to give her details about my kidnapping. But I did want answers when it came to one subject: my dreams and hallucinations. They seemed like they were only getting worse, and I wanted nothing more than to rid myself of them. I had my own sanity to worry about, and I didn't want to be thinking about the McCall pack even in my dreams. I was already taking anti-anxiety medication and sleeping pills, and nothing seemed to be working. My parents thought that if I was drugged up enough, I would be compliant and be the good little girl that they had once known. They were the ones who were out of their damned minds.

"Actually, I've been having these dreams..." I started. And then I told her everything about my dreams of Stiles, of seeing Allison being chased and Scott almost losing control of his alpha. Morrell looked more and more concerned with every word that I said, and her relaxed position soon turned rigid. After I had finished talking, the weight of what I had said off of my chest, I finally met Morrell's eyes again. She was examining me with a whole new level of interest in her eyes.

"Gia...I can't instruct you to come to the animal clinic after school today, but I can say that my brother may have more answers than I can give you." Morrell pursed her lips, looking almost confused. "You understand that this isn't simply a factor of your PTSD, don't you?"

I nodded slowly, my heart hammering in my chest. That was exactly what I was afraid of. That this wasn't something that was scientific or simply psychologically. Why the hell would it be? This was my life we were talking about...

"I think I'll stop by the clinic today," I finally told her after a long silence. "I need answers."

Morrell nodded and pulled out her phone, punching in a number without even looking at the buttons. She pressed the phone against her ear and motioned to the door. "You can leave whenever you'd like, Gia. There's only a few minutes of lunch time left."

I blinked and gazed up at the clock on the wall, realizing that Morrell was right. I was surprised-I guess pouring out your guts made you lose time. I threw away my trash and headed to the door, slipping out of the room just after I heard Morrell say: "Alan? I need to talk to you..."

Running my hands through my hair, I decided that it wouldn't hurt to go to Miss Yancy's room before everyone started filing into the room. I figured I wouldn't have to deal with much harrassment in there, mostly because the class was made up of juniors who I didn't really know. Of course, they most likely talked about me behind me behind my back, but a face to face confrontation with anyone that was younger than me was unlikely. I grabbed my books from my locker and headed to Miss Yancy's room before the end of lunch bell rang. It was by far my favorite class, but half the time I zoned out and doodled because I already knew most of the material. I just didn't feel challenged enough most of the time, and that resulted in me drawing unflattering pictures of my classmates.

I got out my notes from the day before and started to add on to them as people started to shuffle into the room. Miss Yancy greeted them warmly, and she was perky and pleasant as she wrote our assignment for the day up on the board. I tried to keep my eyes on the teacher, even as the person that I had been trying to blatantly ignore came into the room. Sera drew people's attention to her, whether she like it or not. She was wearing a pair of patterned tights and a black dress with tiny white crosses all over it, a pair of black ankle boots on her feet. I tried my hardest not to look at her as she slipped into her seat and threw her worn messenger bag onto her desk, slowly unpacking.

I wouldn't have been uncomfortable, really, if Sera hadn't been staring at me so unsubtly. I could feel her bright yellow-green eyes burning into me as I furiously scribbled down the most important Civil War generals on the worksheet that Miss Yancy had passed out. Sera was trying, and failing, to be inconspicous.

After everything that had happened, everything that we had gone through, her eyes were always on me. Everyone's eyes were. It was like they were assessing my strength, trying to figure out if I was going to break down. But I had endured more than they knew.

I turned around and met Sera's eyes suddenly, gray on green, and raised my eyebrows. "It's alright," I stage-whispered, my voice dry. "I'm saving my mental breakdown for after school. Gotta get my homework done before I lose it, you know?"

Sera's lips twisted into a frown, and her dark eyebrows drew together. She had cut her nearly black hair shoulder length last week, and a few strands curled around her pale cheeks. She was the kind of beautuful that looked breakable, with porcelain skin, high cheekbones, and wide, innocent eyes. And now that Sera had gained a pack, she tried to show that beauty a bit more. But I knew-and others did too-that Sera could be just as sharp and cunning as a knife when she wanted to be.

Yet she often chose to be sweet, and I hated to be the reason that she was frowning.

"Guess I deserved that," Sera muttered. "But honestly? I'm sorry. I know I've said it a million times." Sera pushed her hair behind her ears with both hands, swallowing hard. The girl next to us, Cady, rolled her eyes at us and went back to her worksheet. "I know I can't take back what I did," Sera continued in a whisper. "But I _am_ sorry. So I'll stop checking on you now, if you want." Sera bit her lower lip and looked away. "We'll all let you go back to how it was before, Gia."

I pressed my fingers to my temples and turned back around to face the front of the classroom. "Nothing will ever be the way it was before," I told her quietly.

The rest of the block went by quietly, and I couldn't concentrate at all. Miss Yancy called on me to answer a question and I went completely blank, sitting frozen in my seat as people snickered all around me. There were only a few minutes left in class period, but suddenly, everything felt like it was too much. The room began to spin and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the nauseating feeling that was eating at me. I could hear whispers of a voice that I thought was lost forever: _Come on, lovely little human. Scream louder. It isn't any fun when you whisper._ Liam's voice drifted away, and I curled my hand into a fist and put it in my mouth, biting down hard. The bitter tang of blood, a taste I knew well now, filled my mouth. When the bell finally rang, I bolted out of the classroom as quickly as possible, ignoring the jeers of the underclassmen behind me.

I hoped to God that Sera wouldn't come after me. I didn't know if I could be around her with the ghost of my tomentor lingering in my mind. I hastily wiped my bloody hand on the back of my jeans, wincing only slightly at the pain. My eyes were downcast most of the way to Finstock's Economics class, but slightly raised voices at the end of the hallway caught my attention. It was the new History teacher, Mr. Yukimura, and his daughter that were arguing. The girl was a year younger than me, in the same grade as Sera and the others. She was waving her arms, dark waves flying as she made a couple annoyed gestures. Her father just looking annoyed, mostly, and after another second, the girl pushed past him and started to make her way down the hallway, arms crossed over her chest. She was wearing a black sweater and a gray plaid skirt, with black stockings pulled up to her knees and a pair of heeled tennis shoes on her feet.

Some people looked at her as she passed by, a couple smiling, others giggling. She offered them an awkward smile and looked semi-horrified as she continued down the hall, her bag clutched in her arms. Her almond-shaped eyes stayed on the ground, Cupid's bow mouth pursed in either aggravation or despair-I couldn't tell which. Though the Yukimura girl didn't look anything like her...she reminded me of Erica. The old Erica, the one who had been my best friend. Maybe that was why I stepped out in front of her before she could pass me, smiling my best smile. The girl stopped and blinked. "Hey," I greeted her. "Need any help finding your next class?"

She shifted her bag to her other arm and gave me a tentative smile. "Am I that obvious of a new girl?" she asked.

I scrunched up my nose a bit and tilted my head to the side. "Uh...do you want me to answer that honestly?"

The girl laughed. "Probably not. I actually, miraculously, know where my next class is. It's the morning ones that I have trouble with, you know, because they're on the other side of the building...?" she trailed off and winced, as if noticing that she was babbling. I didn't really mind.

"I know exactly what you mean," I offered. "I'm a senior, and I still get turned around sometimes. I'm Gia Greenberg, by the way." I pushed my dark hair out of my eyes.

The girl scooted to the side to let a clingy couple pass her, and then she turned her brown eyes back on me. "Oh! Hi. Um, I'm Kira. My dad is the new history teacher here. But I'm sure you already know that," she added quickly. "This town is small. Stuff must get around quickly."

My smile became a little forced. "Oh, you have no idea." My eyes trailed away from Kira for a second, locking on a few people at the end of the hallway. I stared. Sera was propped up against the wall at the end of the hallway, examining Kira. Her eyes were narrowed slightly, as if the Yukimura girl was a possible threat. That was almost laughable, honestly. Scott and Stiles were beside her, Stiles' finger entwined with Sera's as he spoke lowly to Scott. Soon he became more frantic, letting go of Sera's hand and whispering something to Scott. Sera's attention soon went to her boyfriend and his best friend, and her mouth dropped open as she stared at Scott in horror. McCall was hunched over slightly, and it took me only a second to find out why Stiles and Sera were freaking out: Scott's eyes were bright, blood-red, and he didn't seem like could stop his shift.

I swallowed hard and looked back at Kira. "Hey, I have to catch up with someone but...maybe you'd like to hand out at lunch tomorrow?" I said quickly, trying to keep Kira's attention on me. Kira stared at me in surprise, but then she grinned brightly.

"Yeah! I mean, sure," she corrected herself, trying not to sound so exuberant. It was actually really endearing. "I'll see you around, Gia."

I told Kira goodbye and began to weave my way through the crowded hallway. Jesus, everyone decided to come down the halls at once... I just barely caught a glimpse of Sera and Stiles tugging Scott into an empty classroom, and I poured on the speed. I passed Isaac and one of Sera's sisters, the younger one that always dressed casually, without so much as a word. The Sinclair girls always followed Isaac around, and the younger one had a special love for Lydia, for whatever reason. I didn't know them, but of what I did know, I didn't really _want _to get to know them. Isaac caught my eyes as I passed him, but he didn't try to say anything. That was good, because I really didn't have time to talk.

I finally managed to pull open the door to the classroom, and Sera and Stiles stared at me with a deer-in-the-headlights kind of looks. Scott was a few feet away, bent over a desk as he breathed raggedly. "Scott," Sera said pleadingly. "Control it-you can't let it own you. Push your wolf back." She took a step closer to him, hands raised.

But Scott growled, "Stay back!", and Stiles caught Sera by the arm and tugged her back behind him, despite the annoyed look sshe shot him.

"What the hell is going on?" I demanded, my voice a bit higher than anticipated as I watch Scott struggle.

Stiles waved his hands around wildly. "Listen, now is not the time to decide you want to talk to us, Gia," she said, still staring at Scott. "Like, any other time besides right now would be fine."

I gave an exasperated huff as Sera continued to stare at Scott, clinging to Stiles as Scott's body twisted. I was terrified that he was going to shift right there and kill us all. And as Scott ripped off his jacket and stumbled a few feet backward, I took a few steps back myself. Scott's claws extended, and Sera tried to go to him again. I was almost positive that she had forgotten that she wasn't a werewolf anymore, or maybe she was really set on getting herself killed by her friend. I had no idea, but either way, Stiles wasn't having it. He shook his head, and we all watched as Scott dug his claws into the palms of his hands until blood began to pour out onto the ground. Sera stared at him in horror, and Stiles winced. I simply stared at the blood pooling on the ground.

_I was tied up in a dark, cold room, and the floor and the the ceiling and the walls were black around me, and there was no other color besides the red blood on the ground at my feet..._

I clamped my hand over my mouth to hold in a scream. Scott's eyes slowly faded back to brown, and he dropped his arms limply back his sides. "Pain makes you human," he told us hoarsely, staring down at his already-healing hands.

Stiles stepped forward slowly, almost like he was approaching a wild animal instead of his best friend. Better be safe than sorry, though. "Scott..." he began, swallowing hard. "Everything's just getting worse. I can't tell if I'm dreaming or awake, you can't control your wolf, and Allison is being haunted by her dead aunt..." Sera flinched at that, squeezing her eyes shut. Sera's family had been killed by Allison's aunt.

Which meant that everything that I was seeing about Stiles, Scott, and Allison...It was happening to them. They were dreaming and hallucinating those things, and I was just picking up on them. But how they hell did that work? I had no special abilities to speak of. I was completely human.

"This is all my fault," Sera said miserably, running both of her hands through her newly-cut hair. "And now I can't fix it-I don't know how to fix it." She looked so small for half a second, curled in on herself like she used to be before all of this had happened.

Stiles leaned his head against hers, and for the first time, I could see the dark circles under his eyes. "You need to stop saying things that aren't true," he told he softly, gathering her into his arms after a second. Sera hugged him tightly, and I had to look away. Some part of me was jealous that Sera had found her other half and I was alone still, as always. I knew I wanted her to be happy, despite all that had happened, and Stilinski made her happy. He anchored her when she looked like she was going to drown in despair.

"We'll figure this out," Scott said after a second, looking at all of us, and Sera stepped away from Stiles and took a deep breath, nodding.

"We've dealt with worse," Stiles reminded his girlfriend, once again taking her hand.

I felt out of place standing beside all of them. I wasn't apart of their pack, and though I honestly did care about what was happening to all of them, I had no power to help the McCall pack. And I doubted that they would want my help, anyway.

When we all finally managed to gather our wits, we dispersed, each of us heading to our classes. Scott and Stiles had economics with me, but Sera had to go to Algebra II. I watched her disappear down the hallway, the bounce taken out of her step. She was just starting to get used to having a normal life again, and then something like this had to happen. It was upsetting, to say the least.

Economics was hard on the ears since Coach yelled constantly, but it was a fairly easy class. And since my return, Coach hadn't yelled at me once. I wondered if he thought I couldn't take it now, if he thought I would burst into ugly blubbering tears or something. So he'd been treating me like I was a ticking time bomb. Honestly, it was almost relieving because that meant that I had one less thing to stress me out. I rested my head in my arms and listened as Coach lectured, gesticulating wildly. It wasn't long before Econ was over as well and the last bell rang with finality. I wanted to get out of school as quickly as possible; the air in the building was too stale, too confining, and I needed to go outside.

After I had gathered my bag and all the books that I needed for my homework, I hauled ass to get out of the school. The crisp autumn air hit me in a blast as I walked down the steps, my Doc Martens slapping against the pavement as I hiked my bag higher up on my shoulder. The trees were swaying in the breeze, and dead leaves littered the ground as I walked to the curb. Not too far off was the spot I had been abducted from when walking home, and my parents had insisted that I have a car after that. As long as, of course, I told them where I was at all times. It was more of a control thing than a caring thing, but that was my parents for you. I pulled my keys out of my pocket and made my way over to my 2012 silver Nissan Maxima, a car that my mother had informed me was both practical and good opn gas. It definitely wasn't my ideal car, but it wasn't a piece of shit and it wasn't ugly, so I supposed it worked.

I opened the back door on the passenger side and threw in my bag, then walked around to the other side and hopped into the driver's seat, starting the car. I was flying out of the parking lot a second later, and I had to remind myself to go the speed limit. I was a notorious speeder. I just got so caught up in driving to my destination that I didn't ususally pay attention to anything else. My father had often said my one-track mind was a dangerous thing. One of the only things that he was probably right about. I drove downtown at an appropriate speed limit, passing a police cruiser without issue. Of course, I still wasn't very fond of the police after the incident with my brother, but I knew that they had just been doing their job. Sometimes, though, it was just hard to let things go.

It was only a few minutes later that I pulled into the animal hospital and shelter. It was odd that I knew where the place was-I had only been there once, when I was small. My father had been looking into buying a guard dog, but when I had picked out a poodle mix, he had gotten irate and announced that we weren't going to have any dog, and he was going to teach us how to defend ourselves instead. He had enlisted all of us in karate, Dante had taken kick-boxing on the side, and Gemma was a natural at gymnastics. I had always been more interested in sports, like the lacrosse I saw the big kids playing. But my dad insisted that I stick with karate, all the way up until my eigth grade year. The year that Dante was arrested.

I climbed out of my car and locked it, shaking the memories from my head. The bell to the clinic jiggled as I entered the building, and I was immediately assaulted by the smell of animals and antiseptic. There was no one at the front desk, so I rang the bell and waited, shifting from foot to foot as the silence closed in around me.

Then a dark skinned men came out of the back, a small smile on his lips. He was bald with a trimmed mustache and goatee, and he wore a polite yet serious expression. This was Morrell's brother? The famous Alan Deaton that so many people talked about? He looked just like an ordinary vet, not like a powerful druid. "You must be Gia," he said, leaning against the counter a bit as he offered me a smile. "I'm Doctor Deaton. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Have the others mentioned me?" I asked in surprise. But that was a stupid question. Of course they had-I had been a key part in all of the sacrifices. For a while, I had actually been important.

"They have," he answered, bobbing his head once. "If you would follow me, I believe the back room is a little bit more private than the lobby. Marin explained to me what you told her, and I think I may be able to answer your questions."

My heart jumped in my chest. _He knows how to help me._ I wanted to do cartwheels for a moment, but then I realized that Deaton hadn't specifically said he could help me. He had just said that he had answers for me. Deaton motioned for me to follow him, still smiling pleasantly, and I did without much thought. I needed to know what was happening. It could potentially help Stiles, Scott, and Allison, too. Deaton led me back to a brightly lit examination room, gesturing for me to take a seat. I rubbed my hands together and sat uncomfortably still, aware that my palms were sweating. Something about being alone in the same room with someone that I didn't really know just made me nervous now.

"Marin told me that you were experiencing dreams and hallucinations that were not your own, Gia," Deaton said quietly, dark eyes on me. "Is that true?"

I gave a slow nod. "Yeah. I just-what does it mean?" I didn't mean to sound so desperate for answers, but I couldn't stop the pleading tone from slipping into my voice.

Deaton inhaled deeply. "It's hard to say, exactly. But I have a theory." He walked around the side of the examination table. "What you're doing is a form of Dream-Walking, Gia." Deaton rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You were almost changed into a werewolf by Seraphina when she was still the scepter, correct?"

I nodded numbly.

Deaton stared out the open windown for a moment. "I thought so. My theory, then, is that when Sera was transferring her energy to you in order to change you, she left residue energy in you. A small piece of the scepter's energy, if you will." I could barely breathe.

"Does that mean I'm...?" I couldn't even finish. There was no fucking way that I was what Seraphina had been-the scepter.

Deaton shook his head. "No, fortunately. It only seems like you possess the ability to delve into people's pysches, Gia. The energy in you should fade fairly quickly, actually. Because the scepter was destroyed once and for all, the energy in you has no source. Once you use it up, it will leave you completely." Deaton must have noticed the stricken expression on my face, because he reached out a hand and placed it on my shoulder gently. "You're still completely human, Gia. Sera didn't do any lasting damage. I promise that."

I rubbed my forehead. "So why am I just connected to Scott, Stiles, and Allison? Why no one else?" I asked hoarsely.

Deaton gave a small frown. "Those three sacrificed themselves for their parents, and Sera kept them tethered to life, even in death. It makes sense that she linked herself with them in an inseparable way. I would assume that is why you're having dreams and hallucinations that are not your own."

I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed my temples. "This is-" I gave a broken laugh. "This is crazy, you know? I'm not...I'm not important enough to be involved in stuff like this." I opened my eyes after a second, and Deaton gave me a tiny, sad smile.

"I think you're underestimating yourself, Miss Greenberg. You're a very important piece to this puzzle."

I pulled my knees up to my chest and groaned. "I fucking hate puzzles," I mumbled into my legs, and if I heard right, I could have sworn that I heard the vet chuckle.

**Chapter one for all of you lovelies! Hope you enjoyed it, and pardon the mistakes and shortness of this chapter. I had to hurry up a bit because I'm only in internet service for a bit. Thank you al for your wonderful support, and please review to let me know what you think. Thank you!**

**-Harley xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2: House of Cards

_She sees them walking in a straight line, that's not really her style._

_And they've all got the same heartbeat, but hers is falling behind._

_Nothing in this world could ever bring them down._

_Yeah, they're invincible, and she's just in the background._

_-Cool Kids, by Echosmith_

I needed to walk. That was the only thing that would clear my thoughts of all the information Deaton had just given me, the only thing that would calm my whirring mind.

Well, other than taking a couple shots of vodka, but since I didn't have any of my parents' finest liquor on me, a walk would have to do.

I thanked Deaton for his help, for ruining my already unstable mental health, and then exited the clinic as fast as physically possible. Being in cramped spaces when I started to break down just made things worse-it brought me back to that stuffy room, my lungs aching as I tried, and failed, to inhale air that wasn't stale.

As soon as I stepped outside, a cool wind brushed against me, and I let out a relieved sigh. There was nothing around me but a few run-down office buildings and the animal clinic. I started toward my car, but about halfway across the parking lot, I thought, _fuck it_, and turned in the opposite direction, heading back to the alley way. I knew that if I kept walking down the warped, cracked sidewalk, I would eventually end up in the Preserve. My mother and father wanted me to come home directly after school, and though I had informed them I was stopping by the shelter, I wasn't about to give them a damn play-by-play of what I was doing in my spare time. They weren't worried about me, anyway-they were worried about what the neighbors would think if they let their recently-kidnapped daughter wander around town alone.

But I wasn't wandering around town. I was going to take a walk through the Preserve, and I would text my mother or father when I was finished. Maybe I would just try to convince them that I was at the shelter for a very _long_ time. I needed to be alone for a while, and I knew that if I went home, that wouldn't be a possibility. I would be interrogated about my actions at school and who I was hanging out with. Screw that.

I continued down the alley, bowing my head a bit as the wind bit against my cheeks. For October in California, the temperature was colder than normal. My Doc Martens hit the concrete with resounding thuds every time I took a step, the only noise other than the whispering wind. I tucked my short hair behind my ears and let my eyes scan the perimeter. There was no one around-the street was completely empty. In fact, _everything_ seemed empty. But after Liam had stolen me not even a block away from the school, I always examined the streets as I walked. It wasn't even like I had been careless or unobservant when it came to watching my back-it was just that...before, I had never expected to be a victim. I was a brown belt in karate, I knew how to shoot a gun and manuever a knife; I had been taught how to handle myself at a young age.

Liam had come out of nowhere, though. Just fell into step next to me like it was the easiest thing to do in the world. I had offered him a disinterested look as soon as my eyes had locked on him. Fair, with golden blonde hair and impossibly long golden eyelashes, blue eyes like the sea in the Carribean, and full, pouty lips-the boy was an anomoly in Beacon Hills. He was far too pretty with that angular jaw and dazzling white smile of his. He was much too unreal. I had never seen him before, but that was the only thing that I'd found odd about him other than his overwhelming beauty. I knew almost everyone in Beacon Hills, or at least knew of them. The Devereaux boy had been a stranger, and for half a second, I had thought that he was someone passing through, just needing directions, or maybe a visiting cousin of one of the good-looking assholes that attended my school.

But then Liam had leaned in toward me, smile turning into a cold smirk, and a chill had skittered through me. "You'll be flawless," he had breathed, hand clamping down on my arm. Fear had spiked through me then, but before I could scream, the world had gone fuzzy.

And when I woke up, the actual nightmare began.

I shook the flashing images from my mind and swallowed down the bile rising in the back of my throat, crossing my arms over my chest as I continued down the street. The sun was shining brightly down on me, but it offered no real warmth. My eyes locked on the trees a few feet ahead-the beginning of the Preserve. I walked faster, getting myself break into a jog until I was in the line of trees. Golden sunlight made shadows dance across the ground of the woods, and I tipped my head back and let it bathe my face as I walked. A couple of birds tittered in the trees above me, followed by the buzzing of insects, but there was one noise in particular that made me frown. It sounded like-voices.

I stopped in my tracks for a second. Without the sound of twigs and leaves crunching under my boots as I walked, I could hear the voices more quickly. They were faint, but it sounded like they belonged to two girls. I took a few cautious steps forward, dried brown and orange leaves scattering around my feet as I tried to decipher what the girls were saying, or where the disembodied voices were coming from.

My breathing became shallow. This felt...unreal, almost. Like I was stuck in a dream that was about to turn into a nightmare. My heart started hammering in my chest as I crept forward, trying my best to follow the sound of the girls' voices. They were muffled, indistinct until I came to the side of a small hill and looked down. Two girls stood at the bottom of the hill-a tall, slim brunette and a shorter, curvy red-head. My eyebrows pulled together in realization. Allison Argent and Lydia Martin were standing below me. Allison had a crossbow in her hands and was trying to walk off in the opposite direction. I heard her say faintly: "I'll be right back."

Lydia gave an incredulous look, her lips puckering together like she had just tasted something sour. She dug one of her high-heeled feet into the ground. "You did _not _just say that," she huffed, her voice laced with hysteria. Allison didn't answer-she walked a few feet away, bringing her bow up into shooting position.

Even though I hated Lydia with a passion, I could understand why she was worried. People said 'I'll be right back' in horror movies all the time...and they never came back.

I started down the hill carefully, wondering why the hell the two girls were in the middle of the woods in the first place. My answer was pinned on a tree a few feet away-a bullseye, no doubt for Allison to practice shooting. Lydia had her back turned to me, and I had lost sight of Allison. A cold weight settled on my stomach, and then I had to reach out and catch myself on one of the huge redwood trees next to me. My vision was flashing between day and night. In the light image, I could see Lydia waiting anxiously for Allison to return, and in the dark image-Allison was running after a dark figure with dirty blonde curls, her bow at the ready. I gasped and blinked hard several times. The darkness was a hallucination-one of Allison's hallucinations. I knew it wasn't real, but Allison didn't. I had to try to warn her.

I ran down the hillside, and shadows that had looked harmless in the daytime seemed menacing in the dark. Inky blackness washed over me, and I ran toward Allison as fast as I could. _Not real_, I tried to tell her. _It's not real_. But my mouth wouldn't form the words. I couldn't reach her. I managed to pry myself from the hallucination just as the form of Allison's dead aunt launched herself at the Argent girl.

I was standing a few feet from the bullseye in the light, breathing raggedly. Allison was advancing on Lydia, who had her back pressed flush against the tree behind her, screaming for her best friend to look at her, to stop. But Allison's face was a blank, stony mask. She pulled back the string of her bow, about to let her arrow fly. I stumbled forward, my legs like jelly underneath me, and nearly collapsed as I gave a raw shriek of horror. I couldn't make it. I couldn't stop Allison from shooting an arrow through her best friend's head.

There was a blur of movement when Allison released the arrow, and I tried desperately to propel myself forward, to do _something_...

Lydia was trembling, and a couple of tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. But she was alive.

Because Isaac had jumped between her and Allison just as the arrow had been released. He held that very arrow in his hand, just about an inch away from where it had almost pierced his head. Allison blinked repeatedly, shaking herself free of the hallucination she had been experiencing. As soon as she saw the scene in front of her, she clamped her hands over her mouth, dropping her bow to the ground. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears brimming in her brown eyes. "I'm sorry." Allison squeezed her eyes shut and started to shake as she sobbed. Isaac dropped the arrow to the ground and took a step back, letting Lydia step forward so she could wrap her arms around Allison. The two held on to each other for a long moment, neither speaking, and I looked away. I always felt like an outsider when it came to situations like this. I wasn't supposed to be here.

I could feel Isaac's eyes boring into me, and I shifted uncomfortably, finally turning to meet his gaze. He was an idiot for what he had just done; he could have easily been killed. Werewolves had healing abilities, but I highly doubted that he would have done really well with an arrow in his brain. I narrowed my eyes at Isaac and began to hike back up the hill where I had come from, fuming. Everyone was so reckless. Lydia knew that Allison was unstable at the moment, and she still trusted her with a bow. Allison knew that she wasn't in her right mind to be shooting unattended. And Isaac was just a jackass who threw himself into danger without thinking of the consequences. After a while of facing the supernatural, did they just give up on being careful? Or caring too much because it would only hurt worse in the long run? Whatever the case, I knew that I never wanted to get to that point. I never wanted to feel like life was so fleeting that I might as well throw it away before I lost it.

I stomped up the hill, only stopping when Queen Bitch herself called out to me. "Greenberg! What are you-what are you doing here?" I looked back at Lydia and felt my lip curling in disgust.

Not even a near-death experience could make Lydia Martin any less demanding. "Leaving," I called back, wiggling my fingers above my head as I turned back around, starting up the hill again. "Later."

It wasn't long before I heard someone start to follow me. I didn't look, but the heavy footsteps and easy breathing let me know that it was Isaac who was walking behind me. "Why are you here, really?" he asked me, and my anger only grew.

I didn't say anything until we were out of the Preserve and standing on the sidewalk. Then I whirled around and threw my hands up into the air. "If you really want to know, Lahey, I was trying to take a walk to get some of the crazy shit I've been dealing with off of my mind." I gave a bitter laugh."Wishful thinking, I guess, since I basically just witnessed a live-action scene from the Hunger Games."

Isaac stared at me in surprise, blue eyes clear and bright in the light of the sun. "Why are you so angry? Everyone is fine; no one got hurt."

"You could have been killed, idiot!" I finally burst out, balling my hands into fists. "Allison was about to let that arrow fly, and you just jumped _right in front of her_." I shook my head in disbelief. He really didn't get understand that he wasn't invincible. Or maybe he just didn't care if he died or not? It made me furious. Isaac was proving just what I didn't want to know-if I got involved with the McCall pack, any more involved than I already was...I would someday be as reckless as him. I would lose what little bit of control I had. I would lose everything.

"I'm a werewolf," Isaac reminded me, seeming annoyed now. "We heal." His golden brown hair was mussed on the side, and there was a frown tugging on his lips. Isaac was at least 6'3, but I was fairly tall for a girl, so I didn't really have to look up that much to meet his eyes. "Allison was going to shoot Lydia if I didn't stop her, and she _can't_ heal like I can." Isaac shrugged, his blue T-shirt pulling taut against his chest. "I had to do something."

It felt like I had acid in my veins. "I'm not ragging on you for saving Lydia, Lahey! I'm not. You could have yelled at Allison to get her to stop, or I don't know, tackled her to the ground if all else failed." I gritted my teeth. "But instead, you jumped in front of a hallucinating girl with a bow at the ready. Smart. Ingenious." I pinched the bridge of my nose. I felt a serious migraine coming on. "You really have a fucked up sense of self-preservation, you know that?"

Isaac looked slightly offended for a moment, and then his frown turned into an outright scowl. "And you don't? I never pegged you as a hypocrite." This Isaac wasn't the sweet boy who he'd been before he had turned, the boy Sera believed him to be. This was the Isaac that Derek had created with the bite, transforming him into someone that shouldn't have been messed with. Someone who was almost menacing. It was true that Isaac had mellowed after becoming a part of Scott's pack, but that fire, that desire to watch everything burn to the ground-it was still there, bubbling to the surface as I watched. He tried to make people think he was the same boy as before. And maybe he was trying to transition back, but he wasn't there quite yet. And honestly, I didn't know if he could be that isaac ever again.

I shook my head. The sunlight was blocked by the clouds for a moment, and I blinked hard as my eyes adjusted to the lack of light. Isaac cocked his head to the side, but I didn't know what to say. I couldn't really argue with him on that. And I couldn't tell him that I was afraid that I wouldn't _have_ a sense of self-preservation one day, so I simply looked him in the eye and said, very calmly: "I can take care of myself. I've managed to stay alive this long, haven't I?" I took a step back, and the wind blew a few strands of my dark hair over my face. "I've never needed anyone to look after me, Lahey."

I dropped my gaze to the pavement, feeling something in my chest tighten as I said those words. Maybe I had needed someone to care, once upon a time, but I had learned how to take on the world alone at a young age. I turned around to leave, starting back down the sidewalk.

"And you think that I do?" Isaac's voice was incredulous. Funny, when most people talked to me, they either sounded disbelieving or pissed off. Or both.

I just shrugged and kept walking. "You haven't proved otherwise. But I guess there's always time for things to change."

Isaac didn't say anything else, but I could feel him watching me as I kept walking. I knew I must have sounded like a complete bitch, and maybe I was being one but...Sometimes it was better to sound like a bitch than to sound weak.

I was still shaken from my shared hallucination with Allison and my argument with Isaac, but I managed (just barely) to put a calm, blank look on my face when I climbed into my car. Some people exercised to relieve stress, or ate, or smoked, but drawing and singing were my only outlets. When I belted out notes, I felt like I was floating, like I was in perfect control of everything around me. People actually stopped and listened to me sing, even though I couldn't say the same for when I talked. I checked the time on my phone. It was just a little bit after 4:30. I probably had time to swing by Ida's for at least a quick karaoke session with Orie. The little girl loved when I sang with her...

Putting my car in drive, I eased out of the animal clinic's parking lot and out onto the main road. It wasn't even a minute later that my phone started playing Aerosmith's 'Janie's Got a Gun' so loudly that I almost went into oncoming traffic. Cursing, I picked it up and squinted at the number. It wasn't programmed in my phone, which usually meant that it wasn't important enough for me to answer, but the first three numbers were the same area code as my number...Frowning, I hit Accept and pressed the phone to my ear, using one hand to drive. "Hello?"

"Gia?" a voice asked back, the other end of the line crackling. I pulled the phone away from my ear a bit and winced. "It's Sera."

"How did you get my number?" I asked, confused. As far as I could remember, we hadn't exchanged numbers. Hell, I only had six numberd programmed into my phone in the first place. It only took me a second to figure out who would have given Sera my number, who would have been worried enough about me that they would want Sera to be able to reach me. "Danny," I sighed after a moment of Sera's silence.

"He wanted me to be able to reach you," Sera replied, somewhat sheepishly. "He was worried about you."

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. "I could sneeze and Danny would be worried about me. So. Need something?"

Sera inhaled deeply. "Actually...yeah. Stiles and I are at the police station with the sheriff. He's reopening old cases now that he knows about...well, you know." Oh, yep, I knew very well. "I was just thinking that it would be nice to have another set of eyes here, you know? To help the sheriff out since his work load is so heavy right now..."

Sera wanted my help, and she knew that if brought up the sheriff, I wouldn't be able to say no. I had a special place in my heart for all the parents after being trapped in the root cellar with them. They were strong people, each having their own iron will. Melissa McCall had taken care of me when I was close to dying; Chris Argent had sationed himself right next to me as I was recovering; the sheriff had opened his house to me. There was no way I could deny Sheriff Stilinski help if he needed it. "I'm on my way."

The former-scepter sighed in relief. "Thank you," she told me quietly. I heard Stiles babbling something in the background, and I couldn't help but smile a bit when Sera said, raising her voice slightly: "I'm still on the phone, Stiles; hold on a second."

"I'll be at the station in a few minutes," I told Sera, turning on my blinker to go down one of the rough backroads of Beacon Hills. The ride was a little bumpy, but it would ultimately get me to the police station a little bit more quickly. Still, it was about a ten minute drive from where I was now. "I'll see you there, Sera."

"See you," the Sinclair girl said, almost brightly, before she hung up the phone. I knew Sera was trying to make ammends with me, and maybe asking for my help was her way of doing it. I didn't want to ignore her; I didn't want to push everyone away. It just seemed more safe that way. I couldn't afford anymore trauma. Not when it was easily avoidable.

I turned on my radio, switching to the classic rock station without even looking. The Rolling Stones' song 'Beast of Burden' was playing, and I turned it up so loud that the stereo in my car started to shake. Classic rock hadn't always been my favorite kind of music-there had been a time when I hadn't really known music at all, just a couple of melodies that stuck with me. I was in seventh grade when Dante had showed me all the new songs he had downloaded on his MP3 player.

_"Mom and Dad don't let us listen to stuff like this," I had pointed out as one of the singers screamed about someone shaking them all night long. My face was red when I looked over at my brother, but he was just grinning. _

_"C'mon, Gigi. Live a little! This music shaped the century; it's not my fault Mom and Dad have sticks wedged too far up their asses to appreciate it."_

_I covered my mouth with my hand to hide my wide smile. "I like the beat," I told him, singing a couple of the words under my breath. My long hair was twisted around my finger as I tapped my foot on the concrete steps of our back porch. Dante looked over at me, dark eyebrows shooting into his hairline as he listened to me sing._

_"I didn't know you could sing like that," he told me after the song had finished playing. _

_I gave him a tiny smile, fingers now fidgeting with my perfectly ironed shirt. "I don't normally sing. Was it...good?"_

_Dante leaned back and whistled lowly, rolling his eyes. "You really are oblivious, little sis. You've got a good set of pipes." His brown eyes were shining brightly as he gave me another grin, bumping his shoulder with mine. "But promise me that when you do become famous, you won't let people turn you into a autotuned pop idol, okay? You sing what you love. You do what you love." _

_"Okay. I promise."_

As the song drew to a close, I swallowed hard. It was difficult to think of Dante, to picture him innocently joking with me on the back porch, showing me his music in secret. My parents had thought he was _corrupting _my good behavior...The Dante I had known had taken a special joy in showing me the ways of the world, and though we fought like any other pair of siblings, we were always close, much closer to each other than we were to Gemma.

Until the night I had found my brother crouched over the body of an innocent girl, a gun in his hands.

Then I had no one.

I pulled into the police station feeling like someone had just dropped a boulder on my chest. I had no idea why I did that to myself. It was much easier to leave the past in the past, to not delve too far into things that I could no longer change. But somehow, my thoughts always strayed back to my brother and what had happened. The Incident haunted my dreams ever since it had occured. But now I had new things to add to my nightmares. New things to make me afraid to sleep.

I threw open my car door and climbed out, eyes raking over the parking lot. There were a couple police cruisers parked out front, but there was no urgency in how they were positioned; it must have been a quiet day. I passed by a deputy smoking a cigarette and gave him a polite nod when his dark eyes landed on me. The police acted like I was a spectacle-sister of a murderer, victim of a brutal kidnapping that involved torture...I guessed they thought it was a miracle that I was alive and sane.

Yanking open the heavy glass door, I entered the station feeling like there were a million volts of electricity shooting through me. I hated the police station, honestly and truly. It made me uncomfortable on all sorts of levels, and I wasn't too fond of law enforcement in general. My father had ranted and raved about how the Beacon Hills P.D. were a bunch of idiots who couldn't find me after more than a week of searching, and I had been in abandoned building the whole time. I had sat in radio silence as he had foamed at the mouth, thinking of how hard the sheriff had looked for me. He hadn't given up the search for me even things seemed impossible. My father was the one who was an idiot-he had no idea what the sheriff had been through, what _I _had been through when I was taken.

I walked up to the front desk with leaden feet and a forced smile on my lips. But when my eyes locked on the deputy manning the desk, I blinked hard, my plastic smile melting right off of my face. The man was young, no more than twenty-four. He had a chiseled jaw and honey-blonde hair combed to the side, and he gave me a small smile as I came up to the desk. His green eyes were incredibly light, almost as unique as Sera's. "Can I help you with something?" he asked. And God, I normally didn't swoon for a pretty face-usually it didn't phase me all that much because most beautiful guys were assholes-but I was at a loss for words in that moment. Where did the hot deputy come from? He wasn't here a few weeks ago when I was getting rescued. Unfortunately.

I probably looked like a hot mess. Or maybe just a mess-eyeliner smudged, choppy hair knotted from the wind-yeah, probably like a mess. "I'm-here to see the sheriff," I finally managed to say.

Deputy Pretty Eyes' smile turned into a frown. "He's really busy right now. If it's an emergency, I can get the next ranking officer-"

"He asked to see me specifically," I insisted, my voice a little more firm. "My name is Gia Greenberg."

The deputy's eyebrows went up, but he didn't comment. Great. Even the new guy new about my amazing misadventures. "You can go right back, then, Miss Greenberg."

I gave him my best smile and started for the sheriff's office. "Thank you, Deputy..."

"Parrish," he supplied, giving me a nod before he gathered a couple files and his coffee cup, leaving the desk to go to one of the back rooms. I watched him go, then turned on heel and walked down the opposite hallway.

I hestitated outside of Sheriff Stilinski's office, my hand hovering a few inches away from the door before I knocked. Stiles yanked it open, honey-brown eyes a little nervous as he let me step around him. Sera was propped against the Sheriff's desk, nibbling on her nails as she stared at the files scattered all over the Sheriff's office. My eyebrows knitted together. Stiles' father seemed to sense my distress because he waved a nonchalant hand from where he sat behind his desk, a weary look on his face. "Don't mind this wreck. I've been trying to sort through some things." He sat up a bit straighter and folded his hands together on his desk, leaning closer to all of us. "There's one case in particular that I want to show you three."

Stiles came to stand beside me, tugging off his dark jacket as he examined the pictures pinned on the wall a few feet away. Sera twisted around, her cross-printed dress riding up as she did so, and let her eyes roam over the pictures from where she sat. The air smelled like stale coffee and dust, and I couldn't help but wrinkle my nose a bit as I stepped closer to the wall covered in newspaper articles, photos, and Post-It notes. Sheriff Stilinski stood up, making his chair creak, and manuevered around us to get to the wall. "I've been pouring over old cases and trying to see if any of them could have ties to the supernatural. This case," he said, pointing to the wall, "was one of my first cases as sheriff. There was a car accident-a mother and her two young daughters wrecked and plunged into a ravine."

I winced and examined the few pictures tacked to the wall. There were two light-haired little girls sitting side by side, the younger one clutching a doll to her chest as she leaned closer to her sister. "The family was believed to be trapped in the car," the Sheriff continued. "And they were thought to have actually been killed and eaten by coyotes." Sera's eyes were wide, horrified, and Stiles looked vaguely ill.

I faintly remembered hearing that story. "One of the Tate girls, Malia, wasn't found at the scene of the crash. It was thought that her body was dragged from the site and eaten as well."

"How is this case important, then?" Stiles questioned, running his fingers over the slightly yellowing newpaper clippings. His face was pale, which only accentuated the dark circles under his eyes. Sera seemed to notice, too, and she shot her boyfriend a worried look.

Stiles' father sighed, and it wasn't an exasperated sigh. It was one of the sighs that exhaled all of his exhaustion. The Sheriff looked like he had aged a couple years in the last few weeks after he discovered that the supernatural world was, in fact, very real. "The accident happened on the night of a full moon, Stiles. I thought it was worth looking into."

A shiver raced up my spine. The case was _definitely _worth looking into if the accident had happened on the night of a full moon. If I knew anything about Beacon Hills, it was that no good ever came during a full moon. "So how do you want us to help you look into the Tate case?" Sera asked after a moment, tucking a strand of her short hair behind her ear. Her yellow-green eyes were still wide.

The Sheriff adjusted the belt of his uniform, tilting his head to the side as he examined each one of us. "I'd mostly just like fresh eyes on the files and any suggestions you might have to help solve the case. Mr. Tate lost his whole family that night, and I'd like to try to give him some closure, once and for all. Is that alright?"

Stiles and Sera nodded immediately-Stiles a little bit eagerly, like we were playing an intriguing detective game, and Sera more slowly, like she was taking on another very heavy task. I paused for a moment because Sheriff Stilinski's eyes were on _me_. He wanted to make sure that I was up for the task, that I felt comfortable taking on something that could add to my already high stress level. It was possible that this case wouldn't turn out to be anything of supernatural nature, anyway. Honestly, I just wanted to help. If I had the power to help, to give Mr. Tate closure, then maybe being slightly involved in the supernatural wouldn't be such a bad thing.

"It's fine by me," I replied softly, and the sheriff smiled at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Alright then. We'll start as soon as possible."

Sera offered me a tentative smile when I looked over at her, pushing herself off the edge of the desk and going to stand beside Stiles. Stiles looked confused, his eyes trained on a few boxes that were resting on the Sheriff's desk. I peered down at the one closest to me, reading the label: **Deliver to FBI Field Office/ Special Agent McCall.** McCall? That had to mean...Scott's father, the dude that had walked out on Scott and his mom when he was still a kid. I'd seen Sera get a lethal expression on her face when she had talked about the man. She had no love for him, and I knew that Stiles hated his guts. I didn't even know the guy and I hated his guts, mostly because my father had been the one to contact him and demand that he come to town to try to find me.

"What's this?" Stiles asked his father tersely, jerking a finger to the pile of boxes on the desk. Sera's eyebrows furrowed, and her mouth puckered when she read the words printed on the side. The Sheriff just sighed, running his hands through his thin hair.

"We'll talk about it later, Stiles," he said tiredly, and if he didn't look so worn out, Stiles probably would have argued. Instead, he clamped his mouth shut and tapped his fingers restlessly against his thigh. Sera gravitated toward him, tugging on his sleeve after a moment of silence.

"C'mon, Stiles. Ophelia's making dinner, and she's really big on people being on time..." Sera rolled her eyes. "Tabitha was twenty minutes late once, and she made her sit at the table for twenty minutes after everyone was done eating just so she would get the point."

Stiles gave Sera a crooked grin, and it was so full of adoration for the girl that I had to look away. It was awful to be around people who cared so deeply for one another-it showed me what I was missing. "Well, we better hurry, then. I'm starving, anyway." Stiles took Sera's hand, linking them together, and then told his dad goodbye. Sera said that she would see me at school tomorrow, and I gave her a robotic nod of my head, watching as the two exited the room.

The Sheriff gave a little chuckle once they were gone. "They're...something else, those two. I don't think I've ever seen two kids so insistent on watching out for one another."

"They're cute," I replied automatically, giving the Sheriff one last smile before I walked over to the door. "Thank you for everything, again, Sheriff."

Stiles' father dipped his head in acknowledgement, and I was halfway out the door when I heard him say: "No problem, Gia. And if you ever need anything-you know where to find me."

I gave him a genuine grin, forgetting momentarily about Stiles and Sera and how happy they had seemed together. "I'll keep that in mind, sir."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The first half of the next day flew by, thank God. I had nearly been late for school, putting everyone in my household in a shitty mood. Then when I had gotten to school, the day had breezed by, and I was thankful. In the kind of mood that I was in, I doubted that I could handle a long, painful day of nothing but lectures.

By the time lunch came around, though, I was in higher spirits than I had been in a while. I went to Morrell's office and asked her if I could skip our session so I could go eat outside of the patio with my 'friends'. Morrell had raised her eyebrows in semi-disbelief, but she didn't question me. She told me that would be fine. Really, I just wanted to sit outside in the sunlight and eat. If I stopped by Sera's table and said hey...that could be counted as hanging out, right? Not like I really cared, besides the fact that I didn't want Morrell to tell my parents that I had skipped a session.

I was sitting outside at an empty table, picking at my peanut butter sandwich as I changed the song on my iPod to something a little softer. The table a few feet away was occupied by Sera, Stiles, Isaac, Scott, Lydia, Allison, and Viviane and Tabitha Sinclair. Lydia's clique was seated a few yards to the left of them, looking lost without their normal ring-leader. I nearly snorted at the longing looks Ellie and Ashley kept sending Lydia's way. Danny caught my eye after a moment and waved to me, and I waved back, then went back to my iPod. I had just unscrewed the lid of my sweet tea when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I yanked earbuds from my ears and turned around. Kira Yukimura was standing behind me, a lunch tray in her hands. She was wearing a short red-and-black patterned dress with a leather jacket over top, fishnet tights, and a pair of heavy black combat boots. Her long dark hair was pushed over her shoulder, and she had a tentative smile on her face.

"Can I sit here?" she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

I cocked an eyebrow and gave an amused grin. "Sure. You don't have to ask for permission, though."

Kira sat down across from me eagerly, the tentative demeanor dropped completely. She reminded me a bit of a puppy, all bouncy and easily excitable. McCall kind of had the same image, except for his puppy-like qualities ranged from his sweetness to his loyalty. Kira's bright smile melted off of her face when she glanced down at the slop on her tray. "Uh...what-is this?" she questioned, turning her tray to me so I could get a better look. I blinked down at the overcooked vegetables and unidentifiable meat floating in some kind of broth.

I gave a muffled laugh, my mouth still full of sandwich. "Looks like Stew Surprise," I told her lightly after I swallowed. "Most people are pretty sure it's made with at least 98% tofu, but I can tell you that it's 100% disgusting as hell."

Kira wrinkled her nose and placed the bowl back on her tray, giving a tiny laugh. "Ohh-kay. No soup. Stew. Whatever that is. I have been bringing my lunch, but I wanted to try the school's food. My other school had these amazing sub sandwiches..." And then Kira described the seemingly-gourmet food to me, making my mouth water. She used her hands a lot when she talked, not erratically, but to punctuate her sentences. It reminded me of Stiles a little bit, minus the frantic way he moved. I let Kira talk, listening to her ramble about her other school and her father's job change, how she missed her hometown but thought she would like Beacon Hills.

I would have continued to listen to Kira if I wouldn't have heard the McCall pack talking (really loudly, actually) about the hallucinations and waking dreams that Scott, Allison, and Stiles were experiencing. Oh, and me. They were talking about me. I jerked my head to the side, straining to hear what they were saying. I had specifically heard Sera say my name, and then pair it with 'sharing the hallucinations', which made the whole group look over at me in unison. I was staring at them, eyes wide. How in the hell did Sera know that I was sharing the hallucinations with the others? I hadn't told her. I hadn't told anyone besides Morrell and...I squeezed my tea bottle tightly, almost crushing it. Deaton. Deaton was buddy-buddy with the Sinclairs' mother, and he no doubt would have told Sera what was happening to me since it technically involved her. But why was she telling the others? Unlike McCall and his friends, I didn't want to broadcast any of the weird shit that was happening to me. People already disliked me enough without finding out some of the trippy things that were going on with me.

Kira was talking about a video game that she had just bought, and I nodded, wanting desperately to listen to her. But now that I had heard the others talking about me, there was no way that I could focus on Kira's video game talk. "Uh...hey, I don't mean to cut you off or anything, but I just remembered something incredibly important that I need to tell my friend Sera." I jerked my thumb in the McCall pack's direction, and Kira stopped talking, giving me an easy-going smile.

"Oh, that's fine!" Her almond-shaped eyes locked on Scott, and a blush dusted her pale cheeks. "I-didn't know you were friends with Scott and the others."

I shrugged. "More like aquaintances, but I'll take what I can get." I grabbed my trash from the table and stood up. "I'll see you later?"

Kira nodded to me, and I could tell that she really didn't want to be left alone. Honestly, I didn't want to leave her alone. I knew how much it sucked to not have anyone to talk to. But I needed to find out what the others were talking about. I waved to Kira, threw my paper lunch bag in the trash, and then walked over to the table where everyone was sitting. Isaac had just made some poorly thought-through joke about mental instability, and Stiles was angrily telling him that he wasn't helpful in the slightest. Sera was sitting beside Stiles, and she shot both of the boys a look of distaste as they bickered. Viviane and Tabitha seemed mostly amused, and the others all looked mildly annoyed. Isaac muttered something about not being used to being helpful since he had spent half of his childhood locked in a freezer.

Those words made my blood run cold. Isaac-the sweet Isaac that hadn't known the difference between a lacrosse stick and a baseball bat-he had been locked in a _freezer_? Just the thought was appalling, sickening. Everyone had always assumed that he'd had it rough after his mother and brother died; his father was a mean man, but...I never knew. Never knew he was being abused until after Mr. Lahey's murder. Even then, I hadn't known to what extent. Now, hearing that Isaac had been locked in a damn _freezer_...I wanted to retch. I wanted to reach out to the boy, even though he had said those words so boldly, so nonchalantly.

Stiles was unimpressed. "Are you still milking that?" he asked scathingly, fidgeting in his seat.

"Stiles!" Sera growled, shooting her boyfriend a dirty look, but Isaac just looked pissed off, not hurt.

Well, I just _hated _to break up the lovely conversation that was going on, but... "Hi," I said, placing my hands on my hips. I was wearing a faded pair of skinny jeans, my Beacon Hills Cyclones T-shirt, and a worn pair of red Converse. "Just wondering-were you all trying to grab my attention, or do you normally just yell about the supernatural so everyone can hear?"

Most of the people at the table just stared at me, bewildered, but Lydia gave me an offended look and Tabitha, the youngest Sinclair sister, had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing. No one answered me, so I looked over at Sera, leaning up against the table. "I heard you mention my name. I'm guessing Deaton told you what's been going on."

Sera winced, biting her lower lip. "Yeah. Listen, Gia, I'm sorry. I thought it was only right if the others knew, since it's in their minds. You're just-"

I shook my head, my dark hair spilling over my eyes. "I know. I'm just along for the ride. The hallucinations and waking dreams that don't belong to me-they're just a special treat." I scowled down at where my hands now rested on the table. "Surprise! Looks like I'm more involved in this than I ever wanted to be."

"Hey, uh, Gia?" I blinked, looking behind me. Kira was standing there, smiling brightly. "You forgot your earbuds on the table," she informed me, quickly fishing them out of her bag. "Here you go."

"Oh. Thanks." I took the earbuds and shoved them in my back pocket, giving Kira a tight smile. The Yukimura girl seemed determined to get involved with everything, but if she knew what was good for her, she would stay far, far away.

Kira faced the group, bouncing on her heels again as she examined everyone's face. "Sorry, but I-I couldn't help but overhear what you guys were talking about."

I shot everyone a glare of daggers to prove my point, and the whole pack stared at Kira with stricken looks on their faces. "Uh...what part did you overhear, exactly...?" Stiles asked, wincing as Sera rubbed her temples.

"The hallucinations and stuff?" Kira provided, and I had to fight back a groan. They had seriously done it this time. "I think I may know what's happening, too."

Everyone's expressions went from horrified to surprised and confused. "It's called Bardo," Kira continued. "It's the transitional state between life and death, marked by visits of peaceful deities and demons." She told the group, eyes alight with interest.

"And you are?" Lydia asked obnoxiously, tilting her strawberry-blonde head to the side as she inspected what Kira was wearing.

I opened my mouth, about to defend her, but then Scott piped up: "Kira." All eyes went to him, but he was only looking at the Yukimura girl. Kira's grin widened. "She's in our history class," Scott said by a way of explanation, his chocolatey eyes bright.

I nearly snorted. The gaze being exchanged between Scott and Kira was about as obvious as it got. The Sinclair sisters seemed to think so, too, because they elbowed each other in the sides and fought back giggles.

"So, what happens after Bardo?" Stiles questioned, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at Kira.

The girl gave another dazzling smile and adjusted the strap of her bag. "You die," she told us, and my stomach plummeted to my toes.

Stiles' eyes looked like the were going to bug out of his head, and Allison and Scott both exchanged worried looks. Wow, how fucking promising...death after all the crazy hallucinations we had been experiencing. Wonderful.

Needless to say, the mood went sour after that. Everyone was quiet for the last few minutes left of lunch, and Kira deflated like she had done something wrong. "That was weird of me to say, wasn't it?" she asked me on the way to third block. She tugged at a long strand of her glossy hair. "I hope they don't think I was eavesdropping, you know? I really wasn't trying to..." Kira looked so worried that I had to give a little laugh. She didn't think the others were talking about real life-that would have been too wild. She was much more concerned about what they thought of her, anyway.

"It's alright, Kira," I told her, coming to a stop outside of Miss Yancy's room. "They like you just fine, I think."

Kira offered me a relieved smile and tugged her books closer to her chest. "Thanks, Gia. I'll see you tomorrow!" She rushed down the hallway as the warning bell rang, apologizing as she nearly ran into a couple of cheerleaders. Shaking my head, I entered Miss Yancy's class feeling more ready to learn than I ever did. I wanted to get my mind off of hallucinations and dreams and Bardo, and instead think about how the Civil War had ended and how interesting Reconstruction was, despite what most people thought. I didn't bother to draw doodles of the classmates that I disliked today-I was so completely immersed in Miss Yancy's lecture that I barely even looked away from her the entire class period. Sera, sitting diagonally to me, seemed to be enraptured by Miss Yancy's words as well. Many of the others in the room were either asleep or on their way there when the bell signaling the end of class chimed.

Sera and I were the first out of our seats, both heading in opposite directions as we went out into the hallway. I stalled for a second, though, lingering at Sera's side. So maybe things couldn't be like they were before. I didn't want that to mean that I was going to turn a cold shoulder to Sera, not after how nice and apologetic she had been. It was true that an apology would fix what had happened, but it mattered that she was trying. It really did. "I'll have to make sure to watch out for Coach today," I told Sera after a moment of awkward silence. She yanked down her cream-colored sweater and looked over at me. "I heard he was in a bad mood."

Sera gave me a timid smile, the same timid smile she had offered me when we had first met. "When is Coach not in a bad mood? Or a crazy mood?" she asked, and I laughed.

"Valid point," I admitted, readjusting my grip on my Economics textbook. "Well...I'll see you later."

Sera started to head toward her Algebra II class, giving me a small wave as Stiles came up behind her and swung her around in a circle. She gave a delighted squeal, and several people around the couple smiled. Stiles whispered something in Sera's ear, tucking her hair behind her ear, and her face flushed red as she swatted at him. He grinned down at her, placing a quick kiss on her forehead, and then jogged to catch up to me. Even with his long legs, Stiles had to practically run to keep my pace. "Geez...are you-what, training for Olympic sprints or-?"

"Funny, Stilinski. But do you know Finstock? If I walk into class even _close _to the time the tardy bell rings, he'll be blowing his whistle for the rest of the class period." Stiles tilted his head side to side, considering. His slightly upturned nose wrinkled.

"You're probably right, Green-Gia," he corrected himself quickly. He knew, by this point, that I hated being called Greenberg. I just hated _being_ a Greenberg, hated the way my last name fell from others' lips. So I appreciated Stiles remembering that. We walked into Coach's class and were met with utter silence, which was weird to begin with. Coach was standing at the front of the class, watching everyone with a stony expression on his face. Stiles gave me a confused look, pulling on the straps of his backpack as he approached Freeah Woods, who was sitting in Stiles' usual seat. "Um...hey, that's kinda-my seat," he started, offering the girl an unsure smile. She looked up at him with blank eyes. And then the weirdest thing happened-she lifted her hands and started signing to Stiles in American Sign Language. I stared at Freeah in surprise, and Stiles just gaped.

"Uh...okay," Stiles began, backing up a bit. I pushed past him and knelt down next to Freeah, watching as she signed the same thing over and over. I had taken an American Sign Language at the local community center a few years back, so I could mostly understand what Freeah was signing. If she would just go a little bit more slowly...When I looked back up, it wasn't just Freeah moving her hands. The whole entire class was signing in unision, and so was Coach. The same exact thing, over and over.

_When is a door...not a door?_

I stood up, my legs trembling as I backed up to where Stiles was standing. He was shaking his head over and over again, honey-brown eyes wide as he pressed his back against the wall. "This isn't real," I told him hoarsely, my hands curling into fists. "Stiles, listen to me. This isn't real! It's not real!"

The vision shattered, and Stiles and I both jerked upright in our assigned seats, breathing heavily. I watched the Stilinski boy's back, nearly on the brink of tears. Coach was ragging on Stiles for not paying attention, but I was still shaking hard from that hallucination. Finstock started yelling about something that didn't sound like it was remotely related to Economics, and I rubbed my shaking hands over my face. Stiles was only a seat in front of me, so I had no problem hearing him say quietly to Scott: "I must have have fallen asleep."

There was silence. I looked over at Scott's face. He looked...afraid. His eyes were clouded over with worry as he said, very slowly: "Dude...you weren't asleep. Neither of you were."

Stiles froze in his seat, his hand slowly going up to trace over something on his desk. I peered over his shoulder, and my breath hitched in my throat. Written in all different shapes and sizes on Stiles' paper were two words: _**WAKE UP**_. I threw myself back in my seat and shoved the knuckle of my index finger in my mouth to keep from letting out a sob. I couldn't break down. This was Stiles' mind playing tricks on him. I was only connected. I had to find some way to close myself off from him and Scott and Allison...

When I pulled my hand away from my face, I was shocked to see black ink smeared across my fingers. I flipped my hands over slowly, examining my palms. My heart nearly thudded to a halt in my chest. The palms of my hands had one word written on them, over and over, just like Stiles' paper: **AJAR**. It covered every inch of my palms. I felt sick. I couldn't remember writing the word. I couldn't remember coming into the room and sitting down. How did I know this was even real?

_When is a door not a door?_ the class had signed to me. It was a riddle. A riddle that I had already solved.

_When it's ajar, _I thought, staring down at the ink that marred my hands.

I leaned forward and tapped both Scott and Stiles on the shoulder. They looked back at me, both still seeming freaked out by what had just happened. I held up my shaking hands for them to see, and their eyes went wide. "We're all going to see Deaton after school," I told them, trying not to let my voice tremble.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Why in the _hell _would my subconcious try to get my attention with sign language?!" Stiles exclaimed, running his hands through his hair. "I don't even _know _sign language!"

Stiles, Scott, Sera, and I were sitting in the examination room of the animal clinic, Deaton watching us as we tried to explain what had happened in Economics. I was supposed to tell my parents if I was going to go somewhere other than home after school, but I honestly didn't care right now. I wasn't about to make them a chart of my schedule for the day when there were more important things to worry about. I scuffed my Converse against the tile floor and rubbed my now-clean palms against my jeans. "I know sign language," I finally murmured.

Scott and Stiles glanced over at me in surprise, but Sera didn't seem too bewildered by the news. Maybe she thought I looked like I would know a couple different languages? I had no idea. "That would make more sense, then," Deaton said, fingers smoothing the paper on the examination table. "Both of you were experiencing the same hallucination, so it would make sense that it would appeal to knowledge only had by one person." The dark-skinned man frowned. "What were the people signing, Gia?"

I inhaled deeply and pinched the bridge of my nose. "They were saying, 'When is a door not a door?' over and over. And when we...came out of the hallucination, the answer was written on my hands: when it's ajar." I let my eyes roam around to every face in the room.

Deaton pursed his lips and nodded to Scott. "When you and the others died, and Sera tethered you to a piece of her soul, there was a door left open in all of your minds." Deaton met my eyes. "It was left ajar, and now, you must find some way to close it. As quickly as possible." Scott shifted uncomfortably on the plastic chair next to me, a haunted look in his eyes.

"What happens if...if they can't figure out how to close the door?" Sera asked, her voice shaking. She looked terrified. Her boyfriend's condition was becoming worse, and he was dragging me down with him. Stiles took his girlfriend's hand in his own. I knew Sera thought it was all her fault-I could see it in her eyes. She always blamed herself when things went wrong, and this was no different.

Deaton shook his head slowly, eyes going to look out the window. "Then something is bound to get in," he answered softly, and I couldn't stop a shiver from shooting up the length of my spine.

**Hi, everyone! Once again, thank you for the follows, the favorites, and the lovely reviews! You're all so amazing; I couldn't ask for better readers. I originally planned to make the first two chapters equal out to the first episode of 3B, Anchors, but it turned out that I'm going to have to finish up the episode in the next chapter. The next chapter is going to be VERY** **informational-you'll meet Gia's parents and learn about her family, and a lot more about her as a person. After that, things will be very action-packed and probably make a lot more sense. Still, thank you for loving Gia as much as I do as I try to jump-start this story. If you have any questions or comments, feel free to message me. And please review! I'd love to know what you all think. **

**-Harley Xxx**


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